From Darkness Comes - Book 2 in The Dissonance Series

Like Lambs to Slaughter

What do you say to the dead? How do you greet someone who you had long since said goodbye to? Those are the thoughts consuming my brain as we make our way off the ship. I follow the hordes of passengers being corralled like lambs and I can't help but wonder if we are being lead to slaughter. Environettix employees stand watching from above, unmoving, except for their eyes, which seem to follow me no matter where I go, like a living Mona Lisa. Each one is armed, and while it may make the other passengers feel safe, I wonder who, or what, it is that we need protection from. Is the protection for us or from us?

I stare up at the enormous glass dome which houses the ship. A voice speaks to the passengers as we're shuffled along, splitting the group and directing us to several smaller glass enclosures. I hesitate at the entrance and look back at the direction we came, as if getting back on the ship and floating in the abyss might actually be a safer option. But I am pushed forward, against my will, with the rest of the group. We file into a room and take a seat. Glass doors slide shut behind us and I'm suddenly filled with a sense of panic. An image of a woman appears on a screen at the front of the room, a face to the voice we've been hearing: honey-blonde hair with warm brown eyes and a pleasant smile, one that seems to say, "don't be afraid," but I find her forced positivity, unsettling. She welcomes us to our new home and explains that due to the lower levels of oxygen on the planet, we need time in the "tank" to acclimate our bodies to our new environment. Her face fades away and images of clouds roll across the ceiling and walls, tranquil music plays through speakers intermixed with the sound of birds chirping. I know it's to calm us, to make us feel like we're on Earth, but the more they try to mimic our old surroundings, the more uncomfortable I become. A gas is released from the ceiling, and even though the woman with the gentle voice assures us that it's a substance to help our bodies adjust, my panic escalates. I feel lightheaded, either from the fear rising inside of me or the change in atmospheric pressure. Oxygen is being pumped into the room at a pace that rivals that of a Las Vegas casino, making me feel awake, alive, almost giddy.

Then just as quickly as the gas is released, it begins to dissipate. I find myself breathing more easily as a different set of glass doors open on the opposite side of the room. I let the others file out before me, following near the back of the line, my eyes scanning the room for a familiar face: Wyler, Sutter, I would even take Captain Ryden right now. But a sea of strangers surrounds me and the sound of "oohs" and "ahhs" echoes from the crowd. I peek my head to the left and right, trying to see around the person in front of me, as to what is causing the commotion. As I exit the room, I see what the excitement is all about. What lies before me is unlike anything I have ever seen. The room is enormous and spacious, much like a giant greenhouse. It's lush and green, with trees stretching to the top of the dome, and plants as far as I can see. The air is moist, a welcome change from the dry forced air upon the ship. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with a damp breathe. A bright light shines from above, mimicking the sun, and I realize how much I've missed the warmth of its rays upon my skin. For six months I've lived in darkness, both literally and figuratively, not allowing myself to take part in the Earth simulations, not allowing myself to open my heart more than it could quickly be closed. I stand still. The world slows. I absorb the warmth from above. The lamps are not the same as the sun, but it's enough to lighten my mood, for a brief moment, until the men and women in white uniforms with the Environettix emblem embossed on the breast pocket, approach. Why is white always seen as a color of serenity? It makes me feel the opposite. It's the color of insanity, the color of control, a way to manage emotions and make people think they feel things they don't.

The line moves slowly. One by one, we approach an individual in white who pulls out a clear tablet and types away on the screen. Each passenger is directed to their new living quarters. I wait patiently in line while scanning the area for Wyler, hoping I can spot him before I reach the gatekeeper. I haven't seen him since he left my room. I should have asked him to stay. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that we need to stick together.